HKWM | Chapter 3

“No, I know demons eat souls, but isn’t this a bit too explicit?”

Above all, despite never having eaten anything before, the mere smell triggered an overwhelming sense of hunger. It felt like genuine hunger rather than just a feeling.

It was only natural for all demons to covet human souls, as they became their power, but regardless, living without consuming souls posed no issues.

However, unlike ordinary demons, Archdemons tasked with the seven sins must eat souls to survive, just as humans must eat to sustain life. It’s their duty to maintain their power and sin through consuming human souls.

I had never gone to reclaim a soul yet. The sinners from whom souls were taken vanished after being denied even the chance to seek forgiveness from the gods or pay for their sins.

If there were any souls suitable for me, the Archdemon of Wrath, they’d be from those unable to contain their wrath, likely involving retaliatory violence or even murder. It was more annoying than it was tragic.

“I wonder if I even need to encounter such dwrathous humans…”

It’s not that I’m scared. It’s just really bothersome.

But this time, the soul seemed either high quality or the sin significant because the scent was stronger than usual. It was tempting even to me, who consistently ignored such calls.

“Ugh…”

I buried my face deeper into the pillow to suppress my instinctual pull towards the scent. But blocking my nose didn’t change much.

It reminded me of the time even Sloth, who hardly ever leaves its own sector, came looking for me.

“…How are you lazier than me?”

It was absurd when a tiny child, clad in pajamas and clutching a stuffed animal, looked up at me as if genuinely puzzled. Living got so boring that most generational changes happened through suicide in Sloth’s domain.

I suddenly sat up.

“Yeah, better to get hit quickly.”

After all, Archdemons are bound by duty to eat human souls to maintain their power. The intense hunger was gnawing at me. I could hold off if necessary, but there was really no point.

Archdemons are formally allowed to visit the human realm only when reclaiming the souls tied to their existence. Just as archangels gain power through human faith, Archdemons thrive on human corruption. It’s a natural law governing Heaven and the Demon Realm, and not even divine beings can stop a demon on such a mission.

Essentially, nothing could stop me now.

“Yeah, I am a demon. An Archdemon, to be precise. Souls of the sinful are just snacks. Today, I’ll make a full course meal out of your soul.”

The decision to make my first trip to the human realm in about 120 years was made in a fit of irritation.

Following the scent through several dimensional steps, I quickly reached the source.

But, contrary to my earlier resolve, I froze at the scene before me.

“Ah, this is insane…”

The human realm I entered seemed to be straight out of a fantasy novel set in the medieval ages. The existence of a class system implied a complete destruction of human rights. I had expected many differences from my past life, but not this…

The dank underground space, remodeled from a cave, was a macabre array of piled bodies and pools of blood. Seeing such a powerful source of the scent up close was different from merely anticipating it.

I shouldn’t have come… The ten-course meal was gone; I might starve for a few more years now. How many are there? I tried to steady my trembling heart as I counted the scattered corpses. Then, a slight noise made me turn around swiftly.

A small figure, covered in blood almost to the point of obscenity, stood nearby. It was immediately clear that this child was the sole survivor and perpetrator of this horror. The droplets of blood falling to the ground seemed unusually loud.

The small child standing listlessly among the corpses seemed so out of place even to a 120-year-old Archdemon like me.

The child looked up at me, appearing out of thin air, and asked without any visible change in expression, though the question was unexpected.

“Are you an angel?”

An angel, of all things. I couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. Even a strwrath would think a demon, not an angel, would be found in such a situation.

“Shouldn’t it be the opposite if you’ve sinned?”

There wasn’t a single breath left around; the underground was closed off, and the thick scent of sin was palpable. The situation couldn’t be worse, and the stench was so intense that it was nauseating. The child, who had been watching me intently, hesitated for a moment.

Is all this the work of this little kid?

Normally, I’d start by consuming the soul of the person I came for, but the child seemed too young, and I found myself asking.

“Why did you do this?”

“…Do I have to tell you?”

“Well, it’s up to you.”

The child hesitated for a moment before blurting out a response that seemed unbelievable for such a young one.

“I didn’t want to die.”

I frowned again. To say ‘I didn’t want to die’ doesn’t justify killing so many. The child’s answer wasn’t sufficient.

I observed the child carefully. A closer look might have been more telling through the eyes, but even from a distance, the soul’s quality seemed exceptionally clear, albeit covered in blood. It must have been the soul’s quality that made the scent so appetizing.

‘Should I eat it…’

Despite never having consumed a soul, my inner instincts were screaming uncontrollably. Eat the soul right in front of you. Wouldn’t you want to see how much things would change if you did?

But looking at the child’s thin body and worn-out clothes made me hesitate. Should there even be such a humane demon?

“Ah, I don’t know.”

I rummaged through my head for any useful magic and gestured to the child.

“Come closer.”

I could have gone over myself, but the ground covered in blood and bodies made it impossible to step forward. The worst part was not being able to find any clean ground.

The child approached me slowly, cautiously, never taking their eyes off me, yet they seemed unfazed by the bloody ground or stepping over corpses.

I reached out and lightly touched the child’s forehead. I only intended to glimpse recent memories, but even that was enough to kill my appetite completely.

The child was a gladiator slave. From the brief scenes I saw, the child might not have been skilled in swordplay if taught formally, but was proficient in killing.

Each swing of the sword effortlessly severed opponents, and if the sword was dropped, the child quickly grappled, breaking joints or bones before crushing throats. The child was a killing machine, with no hesitation in ending lives as people cheered and threw money. These desperate fights where one must die were the child’s everyday life.

The child’s exceptional nature had been recognized by a slave trader who sold them as a gladiator slave. The child had been unable to escape because their sick mother and young sister were held hostage,

“If you behave, I’ll make sure your mother gets her medicine on time and your sister lives without trouble.”

Forced to hold the sword based on that possibly false assurance, the child fought. However, the trader never provided the medicine; the mother had long passed away, and the sister, sold to a brothel, had been beaten to death trying to escape. That was the reason for this tragedy.

But even before that, life hadn’t been much different. Born in poverty, the child had been forced onto the streets at a young age to beg or sell anything valuable to support the family after their mother fell ill.

Was it okay to even say they managed to sustain their life? It was more like they simply survived without choice.

Unexpectedly, the child did not swipe my hand away or dodge it. The child’s face, hidden by long hair and blood, was not clearly visible, but there were no traces of tears. Perhaps they had realized long ago that crying didn’t lighten the burdens of hardship.

Looking at the child now, they were clearly a formidable murderer, but somehow, I found myself reminded of my past days, struggling fiercely to live a normal life, even forgetting how to cry.

“Are you taking my soul now?”

Despite having killed many people and now facing a demon who might take their soul, the child’s attitude was remarkably composed.

“No.”

“Why?”

I had felt an impulse to devour the soul just moments ago, but strangely, I found myself unable to answer.

“It’s too young. It wouldn’t taste good right now.”

In the end, that was the best response I could give, making my first outing in 120 years seem pointless.

“So, will you take it later?”

The child’s question, innocent yet horrifying in appearance, left me feeling slightly sick.

“Would you like that? How can a kid be so fearless?”

The child’s casual inquiry seemed like they were asking about a lunch menu, prompting an involuntary sigh from me. I’m a demon, not a judge or executioner. I have neither the desire nor the reason to weigh right from wrong.

“If you stop sinning from now on, maybe I won’t have to take it.”

Yeah, I went on and on, but in the end, I just felt sorry for the child. The soul smelled incredibly sweet, as if it was one-of-a-kind in the world, and I was so hungry I could eat anything, but I forced myself to ignore it.

But another unexpected question left me at a loss for words again.

“How do I do that?”

“What?”

“How do I stop sinning?”

The child wasn’t angry or resentful; they genuinely seemed puzzled.

“If being robbed and paying it back is a sin, if killing because I don’t want to die is a sin, how should I stop sinning? I don’t regret what I’ve done. Is that a sin too?”

Looking at the child, unbothered while covered in blood, I opened my mouth slightly.

You don’t seem to have any concept of wrongdoing. The child in front of me seemed to have a more demonic way of thinking than even a demon.